Quiet child, strain your ears and listen for the sound of her Though I know you will not hear For soon she will come on dark and silent wings to cloak the land in quiet shadow When the sun grows weary and can no longer stay afloat, she will come Then the wrens that sing in the willows will hush their songs and grow quiet and still The frogs and the katydids, will summon her, singing her praises And the evening breeze will whisper her name The moon may rise in the heavens and struggle against her But she will not be defeated nor relent For some, she will bring the chance to dream, to reflect, and rest in peaceful slumber While others dread her coming, cursed to once again wander through mazes of nightmare and regret Quiet child, strain your ears and listen for the sound of her Though I know, you will not hear
Rory Keene Hopkins is a writer and poet who resides in the backwoods of Kentucky. He is currently working on a collection of stories titled, “Tales From the Dark Cabin.”
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